


The Blood We Spill

by orphan_account



Series: HSWC 2014 [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliborn is an angry child, Other, Pale Solicitation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:19:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1681340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the HSWC prompt: "Remember how Caliborn hold Gamzee's bloodpusher in his hands and then stepped on it and as was to be expected Gamzee didn't die?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blood We Spill

The air was thick with the musk of the alien's blood, heavier and more potent than Caliborn's own. The rivulets flowed freely, clotting in the dirt, and soaking through the remaining leg of his pants. 

Caliborn was up to his knees and elbows in viscous purple fluid, the corpse sprawled and broken before him. His rifle had long since been discarded to the side (were you not supposed to put those on the ground? Whatever). His claws rummaged carelessly through the split, exposed chest of his would-be guide, exploring the inferior anatomy of the species his stupid sister had been so enamored with.

"Unsurprising." He said to himself, ripping deeper into the troll's flesh.

The communication app had stopped beeping, meaning that the annoyance with the black text had given up his infuriating commentary. Good. Caliborn didn't need him, or this pathetic excuse for a guide.

He didn't need _anyone_.

He'd gotten in this game without his sister's help, despite her claiming it was impossible. Well. If she knew so much, maybe she wouldn't be dead. Maybe she shouldn't have put so much admiration in such a worthless, fragile species.

The troll twitched, and Caliborn delivered a swift blow to its face. 

"How could you expect. To teach me _anything."_ He said bitterly, voice awkward and lilting, unlike the smooth speech of his sister's. "Look at you. Thinking you're better than me. Worthless."

His hand finally wrapped around an organ the size of his fist, rocking with the force of the troll's pervading pulse. What a freak.

Caliborn ripped the heart free with mild difficulty, breaking the rubbery cords messily so they spewed more purple across the ground. He pulled himself to his feet, metal and organic legs finding steady purchase. 

"Pathetic." 

He dropped the heart, letting it bounce feebly in the dirt before crushing it beneath his metal foot. It crunched and squished, blood puddling from underneath his heel.

The high of violence began to ebb, and Caliborn huffed with the declining rush.

He stepped back, surveying his ruined clothes with a frown. Inconvenient. He plucked at the stained suspenders idly, hands still drenched. 

With that diversion out of the way, he should probably start looking for something useful around here...

"Hrk,"

Caliborn froze, turning slowly. "No."

The troll gave another cough, blood dribbling down his chin. His eyes were glazed over as he spasmed in the soil, until finally locating Caliborn's face. A shaky, vacant grin stretched across his face, and his fingers twitched in a twisted facsimile of a wave.

"No! Why won't you fucking DIE!?" Caliborn gave a sharp kick to the alien's gut. "It's not fair!"

He dropped to his knees once more, fists flying and hands reaching for the gaping purple maw of the troll's chest, shaking him by the ribs and feeling them crack beneath his hands. 

"It's not- how-" His grip was slick, driving him to claw blindly, cutting through flesh, tissue and organs alike.

Still, the troll did not die. There were no screams, no expressions of pain. Just that fucking unnerving smile.

" _I hate you!"_ Caliborn snarled, fistfuls of gore bleeding between his fingers. "All of you, fucking disgusting, weak, lying, stuck up-"

Something touched his cheek, making him flinch violently. 

The troll's hand, trembling violently, was lightly patting his face, leaving palm prints of purple behind.

"The fuck. Are you doing."

The motion continued, and Caliborn was tempted to rip his arm off, until a soft noise  hissed from his mouth.

"Ssh." 

"What."

"Sssshh."

"Are you telling me. To shut up."

The patting became more persistent, turning into a soft caress down Caliborn's face and across the colour marks on his cheeks.

Blood rushed to his face, burning beneath his skin as Caliborn swatted the hand away.

"… What the fuck ever." Retrieving his gun, he began the trek forward.

Caliborn only glanced back twice to see if the troll was following, pulling himself as a bloody purple smear across the land. 

If he slowed down, it was because the blood had gotten in the joints of his metal leg. No other reason.


End file.
